She Decided to take a walk
by The-Awful-Fall
Summary: a 19 year old struggling artist/college dropout hates her life, hates her job, and she despises people. when she decides to take a walk to the park she finds someone who could possibly haunt her life or destroy her future. 1st story so sorry if it sucks!
1. Chapter 1

"this is taking"

'_thinking'_

Batman and its characters belong to belongs to DC comic. The girl however is mine.

* * *

She decided to take a walk, not wanting to stay in her small apartment. Today was hectic at work, customers complaining for everything and anything. She worked at a café in the central food court, that place was always crowed. She thought about quitting her job more than once, she hated dealing with people, but every time she went against it. She had to pay for her apartment and she had dropped out of college, she just couldn't keep up with the costs. Life was hard for the 19 year old struggling artist.

"At least it's peaceful" she had whispered

Smiling as a cold breeze hit her face and through her brown layered bob hair

After 30 minutes she arrived at the gotham central park. There was a majestic fountain in the middle of a large pound where the ducks were enjoying their night swim.

She made her way to one of the many unoccupied benches and just stared at the ducks. She began to ponder.

'_what am I doing with my life? I going absolutely nowhere- just stuck in the same cycle.'_

_Sigh_

' _I haven't a plan or idea what I want to do. I want to be an artist, but what does that translate to? Hell, even __**I**__ don't' know. How pathetic is that? To not know about what you love. Maybe taking my generals was a waste of time and money, god I need some real guidance, I'm so lost.'_

Checking the time, 12:40 a.m., the girl began walking out of the park when her foot tripped and she fell.

"AH!" she look back

'_what the hell did I trip over?'_

In the dim lit park one would mistake what she saw to be a branch of sorts sticking from a near bush, but, branches didn't wear shoes...

Getting up to get a better look she noticed it wasn't a branch, it was indeed a leg, a scrawny looking one at that and it was surrounded by…hay?

"what the?"

Leering over the bush, she saw an unconscious man: lanky yet outrageously tall, pale skin, messy unkempt brown reddish hair and a rather large nose upon his features.

She was scared and didn't know what to do. She never found someone unconscious before and she just didn't want to leave him here. It was late and Gotham at night was terrifying even for the toughest of criminals. Only the insane walked these dark streets.

Walking toward the street she managed to hail a cab and placed the unconscious man in the car with the help of the driver, claiming he was a friend to had too much to drink when the driver asked. She was taking him home.

Had she looked only a little further she would have found a spray can with a pumpkin logo and the mask…of the Scarecrow.

A/N: sorry This is my first time writing a story so forgive me if it's somewhat deranged.

So yeah, just trying some things out. What will happen to the girl by bringing the scarecrow into her home? Maybe something interesting, maybe something tragic, maybe you'll just have to keep reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Batman and characters belong to DC comics

* * *

Some birds were gathering the stray strands of hay on the ground when a towering shadow figure scared them away.

Kneeling down, the Batman touched the strands observing them. He noticed a trail of hay made toward the sidewalk like its owner was dragged or carried and they just fell down. A few steps and he found the mask and can.

'_he would never leave his 'face of fear' behind' _thought the bat _'he was obviously unconscious when he was taken'._

Making his way to the batmobile a british accent informed him of any luck.

" not yet Alfred, however I managed to locate his last position, but it seems he was taken away by someone. I found a spray can and his mask. I'm guessing he wasn't awake when taken"

"do you suppose another inmate had gotten to him?"

"It's a possibility, but it's hard to tell with the little evidence I found. I wouldn't worry too much about him now though. Without his fear gas or mask he's of little threat, he'll show up eventually, he'll have to if he wants to get some chemicals to create his toxins".

" am I safe to assume you will be arriving home early this night master Bruce?"

"we'll see Alfred, first I'll drop by Gordon to see if his men have found any leads"

"very good sir, dinner shall be ready when you return".

"thanks Alfred."

With that, Batman closed the link and made his way to the GPD

* * *

Bringing in a bowl of warm water and a cloth she was able to see the man's face in the room's light.

He had dirt on his face and clothes, probably from laying on the ground. He had scratches and faint bruises with some dried blood near his nose and around corner of his mouth.

She stared at the man on her bed while gently wiping the dirt and blood from his face. She felt panicked.

' _what have I gotten my self into, who brings a complete stranger into their home? An __**unconscious**__ dirty stranger? For all I know he might-'_

There's a groan. She freezes. He shifts slightly but doesn't awake. Letting out a sigh she takes the bowl and cloth and leaves the room turning off the light.

In her living room she plops on the couch and turn on the tube. Watching television late into the night she begins to doze until finally succumbing to sleep leaving the tv on. the paranoia of her guest becomes a trivial haze.

On the screen an announcement is made to the citizens of Gotham City to beware of inmate that has escaped Arkham: Jonathan Crane aka The Scarecrow.

Jim Gordon opens the door to his office making way straight to his coffee machine. He notices the window open and the slight breeze.

"any luck out there finding him" he says aloud. After so and so years he was getting used to the Batman's discreet entries, if only barley, on most nights he still managed to make his heart startle.

" I found some of his possessions, but no sign of the Scarecrow himself, thought I'd come here to check if your men have found anything"

The commissioner shakes his head no and breaths in deep

"I don't get it. We beef up security tight in that asylum and they still managed to escape."

"don't get too stressed about it Jim, I think I managed to injure him in our brawl, without his toxins he's not as much as a threat". The Batman tries to comfort

"yeah well it sure as hell not making my job any easier. All those damn reporters, everytime I have to lie to keep the citizens from getting overwhelmed. Imagine if I told them we had no idea where the lunatic was, they'd think the police was a joke!"

Gordon takes a sip of his black coffee. He cringes a bit as it burned his throat with satisfaction.

" I'll find him Jim, rest assured knowing that"

Jim chuckles tiredly. When he turns around the Batman is gone. Another sigh

" I hate when he does that" he takes another sip

* * *

From the spit of the curtain a ray of light shines through glazing the face of the slumbering man.

Bothered, he opens his eyes ever slowly, rubbing the sand from his eyes. Almost instantly his head begin to throb. Shutting his eyes he raises his hand to pinch the brink of his nose in hopes of releasing the pressure.

He takes note of his surroundings.

The room is a shade of smokey blue. Next to the bed was a night stand with a lamp, a book and pencil and Ipod ihome. The walls were decorated with various porcelain and gas masks, drawings and paintings he assumed were self made as well as queer collages of random objects placed in abstract assembly.

It then hit him. Where was his mask? He looks around frantically, but it's nowhere to be seen, which makes him rather agitated.

He spies two doors: one obviously a closet and the other leading to the main room.

His body feels beat and weakened- his muscles burn as he gets off the bed. First he goes to the door on the left.

It's a walk in closet. He notices some canvases on the floor leaning against the wall, some painted others blank.

'_hmm. This person is an artist of sorts'_ he looks at the clutter of clothes and makes another acknowledgment. _'Ah, this __**woman**__ is an artist of sorts and this is her apartment'_

Chills run up his spine as he imagines what may have been done to him, how he had gotten here. He felt sick and his head throbbed even more as he tried to recall what had happened.

'_what happened? What happened after I escaped Arkham?.. Ahhh yes… Batman, I was lucky to escape that damn bat! He punched me off the second story of a building! Luckily I have no dire injuries; I must have fallen in a deep sleep from exhaustion'_

Being satisfied with his reason for so carelessly getting abducted he moved slowly to the other door. He places an ear against the door for any movement. Nothing.

With his hand on the handle he twists and pushes forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Batman and characters belong to DC comics.

* * *

She woke up feeling groggy, her eyes stung from being up so late last night. She hadn't bothered to change into sleep wear or wash her face, she was sure she had raccoon eyes.

Remembering she had fallen asleep with the television on she reached for the control to shut off the early morning cartoons. She had a headache.

She flipped to stare at the ceiling, it was quiet and she was thankful she had the day off.

'_Good, I'm not in the mood to deal with ungrateful society'._

Just after finishing that thought her mind back-tracked the events of last night, or rather, early morning: coming home, taking a walk to the park, and finding an unconscious bruised man, all in a split second.

Her heart began to race, how could she forget something like that?

Slowly she rose from the couch and stared at the door to her bedroom. After standing still a few minutes she felt she was not alone. There was a presence, she felt it, it gave her goose bumps. If her heart sped any faster she was sure she was going to have a heart attack.

Then the knob turned, out of sheer panic she made her way to the small corner kitchen with a few strides, hiding behind the counter. Immediately after doing so the door opened slowly making a slight creaking noise.

'_I have to remember to fix those hinges' _a confused look fell on her face as she shook her head.

'_Not the time to be thinking about that!'_ she noted herself.

Out came a man whose eyes shone with cold curiosity. He looked around the room: a small kitchen complete with a small round dining table, the living room consisted of picture frames on the walls, some drawers here and there, an old television, a coffee table and a messy couch.

A messy couch that seemed someone just rose from. He walked toward it.

From the counter, a nervous wreck of a girl opened one of the lower cabinets taking out a pan. Getting up she hesitantly made her way toward the stranger, who was now inspecting the couch. As she got closer his height grew.

'_He didn't seem so tall lying down' _she whined. She decided to give herself a countdown to cue herself.

He felt the warmth upon placing his hand on the indented couch, then pulled back sharply as if he had touched something foul.

'_three…'_

He turned his attention to the cluttered coffee table, some paper with scribbles, cups, water bottles, magazines, a name tag. He raises an eyebrow and picks up the tag.

'_two…'_

The simple two toned tag twirls in his grasp, he run his thumb along the name.

'_three…!'_

She pulls her arms back throwing the pan behind and ready to slam forward…until the sun reflected from the pan, to a mirror, to her face.

Being in the darker half of the room her eyes were not given the chance to adjust to any natural light, it stung like hot sauce.

"AGGHH!"

He didn't know what alarmed him first: the sudden ray of light arranged in his direction or the yell that sounded like a rusty tuba.

He turned to face the sun blind- pan raising women, who he noticed, had shut her eyes to the solar assault.

A hand shot to her throat as she was violently shoved to the near wall. She held her breath as she opened her eyes to meet his calm yet mocking features.

"Well well, what have we here?" he speaks in a whispering malice. The pressure on her neck has the girl in a petrified state. She feels the pan is still in her hand, she rotates it.

The stranger takes no notice.

"tell me child, am I correct to assume you are…" he squints at the name tag in his free hand. "A Miss Cass-AHH!!"

A quick smack and he releases his grip long enough for her to move behind him. The pan still in firm hand.

He caresses his head with both hands; a scowl is on his face.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!" he bellows

"YOU WERE CHOKING ME!" she reasons not lowering her guard

"YOU HIT ME WITH A **PAN**!"

"BECAUSE YOU WERE **CHOKING** ME!"

"I was NOT choking you! Merely attempting to lower your defenses" he checks his hands as if expecting to see blood.

At this she crosses her arms, her tone skeptical "Really? By grabbing someone by the _neck_ and applying _pressure_, you expect them to just _lower_ their defenses?"

Making a hissing noise he acts as if he had not heard her.

"goodness child, you could have given me a concussion…"

She opens her mouth to bash back, but decides against it. Somehow he managed to make her feel like the guilty one, even though it was **he** who actually made a threat on her life before **she** could propel hers, and the fact that she was going to attack him in the beginning in the first place made her feel even worse.

"DON'T call me CHILD", she pouted like a child ironically, "the name's Cassie, but I'd rather you call me Cass".

"May I acquire as to why?"

"I just hate that name ok" she made her way to the freezer, leaving the pan on the counter.

"well CHILD…" he takes satisfaction in seeing Cassie tense with agitation. "I happen to like Cassie, it has a sickening sweet sound to it". He chuckles lightly, obviously tormenting her.

Walking toward her "guest" she harshly shoves a bag of ice into his chest and makes her way toward the couch turning on the television. he puts the bag to his head.

"and who the hell are _you_ exactly?" Questioned Cassie, there's a bitterness in her voice

This takes the lanky man by surprise. "Don't you recognize me? Don't you know **who I am?**"

Cassie rolls her head to the side to look at him, "can't say I do"

Gesturing to his outfit with one hand he tries again, "doesn't **this **spark you of anyone?"

Cassie gives a black stare, "uhh, a farmer?" He suddenly shouts throwing down the ice bag in a rage.

"THE SCARECROW!" Cassie's eyes are wide from his sudden burst. "I AM JONATHAN CRANE, THE SCARECROW, THE MASTER OF FEAR!".

There is a moment of silence, an then throwing her head back Cassie gives a howl of laughter. Crane was not amused, then a sickly grin lines his face. He composes himself.

"very well, laugh then, I suppose I'll have no choice but to unleash my toxins, you will fear Scarecrow, you will fear _me_." He reaches to his side to grab an extra can he had packed away, but it wasn't there.

"what!?" he frantically checks his pockets, that can was the last of his fear gas he had before going out to create more.

He turns to the girl trying to regain her posture. "where is it?" he demands, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her viciously. Slapping away his hands she get up to face him, or look up at him.

She crosses her arms once again, "I have absolutely no idea to what you are talking about"

"my fear toxin! It was in a spray can with a pumpkin on it!"

"I didn't find any can, all I found was you, on the ground, unconscious. Your welcome by the way, for not leaving you there. Y'know maybe you banged your head a little too hard"

Just when Jonathan was answer back, the phone rings. "hold that thought" says Cassie, one finger in the air for pause. She picks up the phone. It was the scarecrow's turn to pout like a child.

"hello? Oh…" she sounds unimpressed, "hey boss…what?...no!...i'm not-…it's my day **off**, can't you- …but-.. grrrr fine! I'm coming, give me an hour". She slams the phone down and marches to her room. The sink in the bathroom could be heard.

Jonathan stands in the living room perplexed. Minutes later Cassie comes back, face clear of raccoon eyes now freshly applied eye make-up: simple eyeliner and mascara as well as a new set of clothes. She walks over to Jonathan arm outstretched. He stares.

Impatiently she demands, "my tag!"

Looking down he finds the tag still in his hand, _'I had this thing all this time?'. _he hands it to her.

She sighs deeply not bothering to look at Jonathan, who was just watching her run around.

"I have to go to work" she simply states. "you're welcome to stay here, just don't …take anything alright?"

Jonathan looks around as if trying to find anything _worth_ stealing.

Grabbing her purse and keys she leaves on a final note, "I'll be back around 8pm". And with that she was out the door. Their "argument" never really concluded.

He turns to the television she had left on, again. The news was currently airing.

" nor the police or Batman have yet found the whereabouts of Arkham escapee Jonathan Crane, citizens are cautioned to stray clear of confrontation and to immediately alert the police to anyone matching the inmate's description…"

It went on to describe his physical appearance and past crimes. Looking around Jonathan figured if the police or Batman haven't found him thus far then maybe it wouldn't hurt to convert to a new hideout, maybe send a person to get his required chemicals, one who won't attract any attention, a normal everyday citizen…

Jonathan Crane had eloped a solution, he was given an opportunity and he would not waste it.

* * *

A/N: hey, sorry i haven't posted. school has me by the neck along with other side projects, but hopefully i'll continue to update when i can. i always write little bits in my spare time :) thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Her boss nagged at her as she came through the employee back door, oh how strong was the urge to just strangle his neck 'till his face turned blue. Not only did she regret leaving "the scarecrow" at her apartment, but she had to deal with the crap shitting out of her boss' ass for a mouth.

The day was slow and uneventful, taking peoples orders as well as their ignorant complaints and attitude. What was worse were the girls who kept asking if there was –

" …any fat-free butter crescent filled with crème cheese and raspberry filling drizzled in chocolate? I don't want to get fat and loose my figure, well not that I gain any weight hahahaa! But I am on a diet and I mean there's like diet soda and those 100 calorie things, even though I end up eating like 4 bags! And those things I forget the names of but they…."

"_blah blah blah, jesus women stop babbling! UGHH! " _

A sudden "hey!" and the girl shut it.

"Listen, this is a cafe, we have lattes, coffee and breakfast and pastries. If you don't want to get fat then you might not want to eat at places like this, get it?"

She gives a dramatic gasp. "Excuse me? well you don't have to be so rude! I am not FAT, your only jealous because YOUR the one who's fat! I think it's real sad for a fat girl to call a girl like me fat! Forget this! I'm going to get a double bacon double cheese burger with chili fries, how do you feel about that? You just lost a customer!" and out she went.

While watching her stride out the door, Cassie was curious how she managed to not throw some boiling hot coffee at this bitch's face. Still she couldn't just stand there and not comment back even if it was under her breath. " I am NOT fat, I'm normal and voluptuous with hips, an ass and breasts, which is more than what I can say for that figure of bones"

While busy fuming out more aggressive language within her mind, a tall, handsome, and sharp-looking man made his way counter.

"there's always that one person who makes your day isn't there?". Cassie looks up.

"oh! Mr. Wayne". Bruce Wayne was a regular who always seemed to brighten up Cassie's day. The small conversations with him didn't make him a customer, but like a real person. oh, and he always tipped.

"yea, people like her just really tick me off. i mean seriously...uh, sorry. caught myself before letting my self rant...again". She gave a nervous chuckle. "So, the usual? strong black?"

"haha, you got it, why don't you join me for a cup? your shift should be over soon, you can rant all you want then"

"how do you when my shift ends? you know today was my day off? hmm, careful Mr. Wayne you're starting to sound like a creeper" Said Cassie playfully as she made his coffee as well as her own cup of honey green tea.

Mr. Wayne smirked and took his cup with thanks as they walked to a table. Cassie sat on one side and he the other. "i just make it my business to know my workers a little better, by the way". He reached within his suit to pull out a golden envelope handing it in her direction.

Cassie took the crisp envelope and opened it delicately, inside was an invitation to a Private Charity Gala at Gotham's Art Museum. She couldn't' help, but relieve a gasp. She looked at the billionaire with questionable awe which he promptly answered.

"an early birthday present and thanks for your participation. Besides, i know you like the arts and there will be some famous artists present at this charity including their works."

Like any modest person, Cassie tried to gently refuse as she gave her reasons. "oh, Mr. Wayne i can't accept this. believe me you've already paid your thanks when you got my job back and fired that pushy, groping, pervert of a manager and anyone could have designed a new logo." She hastily placed her hands in defense "not! not that i wasn't grateful for the opportunity! i'm just..." she groans, embarrassed by her constant babble._ "i seem to be doing that a lot today"_

"Then take it as a birthday present", he said bluntly, closing his eyes and taking a swing of his coffee. "Also, don't underestimate yourself so casually. You won't get anywhere with that attitude, you have outstanding potential and don't you forget it".

she raised her cup of tea, smiling as she took his words to heart when you caught a glimpse of the television across in the top corner. Her eyes grew wide and mouth slightly agape.

it viewed the same person she had found at the park last night, the same man who she had left at her apartment. he was labeled as a Jonathan Crane and in bold capitalized white letters was...

"the scarecrow..."

Mr. Wayne raised a brow at the random mention. he noticed her looking past him and at the television behind him, so turned to take a look himself. Upon turning back he noticed Cassie had gone pale with eyes hazy as if she just realized something. He leaned forward, disguising his expression as worry with tone to match.

"Cassie, are you alright? you seem a bit pale"

She placed down her cup in quick motion causing its contents to slightly overflow. She forced herself to act calmly, though inside she wanted to bolt out the shop to her home.

Clearing her throat she apologized. " yea, i uh, i have get home-something i have to do. Um, thank you again for the invitation Mr. Wayne". a forced smile.

"you're welcome...can i give you a ride?". she was acting strange.

"no that's ok! thank you really. it's just, it's late and i should be getting home is all". nervous giggles followed by slow back steps.

Wayne's eyes hardened, she was acting _really_ strange. "...alright...be careful out there".

"of course!", with hasty steps she was gone and not long after...

so was Mr. Wayne.


End file.
